A day. A moment.
The Dakota sand stone.
Carve our initials with a stick
and laugh
at the certain uncertainty of it.
–
Legs dangle, right triangle,
notes go missing
new ones remain.
Birds, a train, rustling leaves
scuffle of trashed cans.
–
Kiss me sweetly in this mess
the hourglass drops granules
a dozen at a time.
–
My belly aches, lips
chalked chapped,
overused:
I’ve whispered, shouted
no use for that here.
–
Yellows browns all around
white teeth born
from cracked pink mouth.
–
The wind reminds me of ancestors
who don’t belong to us
and watch with eyes
warmer than these gloved hands.
–
(What is this place?
I cannot remember ever being here
but I feel the comfort of
shared aloneness.)
–
The cars in the distance
don’t belong as they zoom by
for no moment lasts forever, he told me,
nothing is here to stay.
But it feels too good to look in his eyes
and feel as though forever
is a certainty we only say is uncertain.
–
I am a splash of color
alongside all the other.
“You match,” he said
with a smile in his eyes
that told me I could be home.
